Eight Years Numb
by Lune-Solei
Summary: What happens when you're caught between the right thing, the life anyone would want, and the one thing, the one person you really want? Who would you choose to be with? past UO, present UY, UO. SLASH. LEMONLIMEISH! Do NOT flame for pairing!


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Code Lyoko; they are the property of Ante Films.

**Pairings:** U/O, U/Y, U/O

**Warnings:** Drugs, alcohol, lemon-lime-ish.

**Rating:** T – M

**Author's Note:** This fic actually occurred to me a few months ago, sometime during June or July of '06 to be precise. And that's when I started writing it, despite what some of my friends told me. I stopped halfway through it and one friend in particular, Starr, was upset but I promised her that I would finish it one day and here I am, I've finished it. I don't like the ending; it came out different than how I wanted it to, but if I had done the ending I wanted it would be A LOT longer than it is now. 25 pages for those interested Anyway, please don't flame for the pairing because I've given plenty of warnings.

**Dedication:** This is dedicated to the memory of my very dear friend Starr who truly enjoyed this fic. I promised her that I would finish it, and unfortunately it took me a month after her death to do so. I hope she understands anyway. I love you Starr.

* * *

_"Ulrich...?"_

_He hadn't paused when he'd heard the door open, hadn't looked up when he felt the hand on his shoulder, had kept his head down, shoulders hunched, continued folding, packing. And then the voice - soft, quiet, questioning, confused - had come, forcing his hands to still, his eyes to lift._

_"Ulrich," the voice wavered, eyes confused, searching, "what's going on?" The eyes, such a pretty green, moved to the suitcase sitting half-packed on his bed. "Are you going somewhere?" The eyes lift again, meeting his own. Brown to green, green to brown. Green had always been his favorite color, would it still be after this?_

_He gave a nod, couldn't find, didn't trust, his voice. His eyes dropped to the hand on his shoulder. The fingers - long, pale, a musician's - clutching at the fabric of his shirt; rough, chewed nails catching on the threads. He could feel the warmth spreading through his body, from that one place of contact. Skin on fabric. Imagine if it was skin on ski - no don't. Don't go there._

_"Why?" The voice is trembling, worry thickening it. Worry or dread? He has to wonder. Maybe it's both._

_"I'm sorry..." his voice is thick too. He zips the bag slowly, listening to the teeth click together with each tug. "I just...I can't anymore."_

_"Was it something I did - said?" He shook his head slowly as his fingers released the zipper and he felt himself falling, fading, closing in on himself. "Something I didn't do? Didn't say?" The pain is there, tangible, filling the room and they both feel it._

_"No, I just can't. I'm sorry."_

_It was pitiful, hollow, echoing dimly in the silence. He looked away, out a window, at the bed - no bad, to many memories there, snuggling in the dark, warm kisses, roaming hands, labored breathing, moaned names - at his feet, the clock. Anywhere, anywhere, just not the green eyes._

_"I love you Ulrich."_

_Expectation, hope, waiting. He looked away, moved away, retreated into his shell like a giant, human-sized turtle. He heard the strangled noise, felt the tightening on his arm, half-turned, eyes raising involuntarily, closing as their lips met softly. He wanted to forget, to stay, but he couldn't. He pulled away slowly, reluctant, always reluctant. _

_His heart was breaking, he could feel the crack deepening, spider webbing out. He closed his eyes, fighting back the pain, the nausea, the guilt. He heard the gasp behind him, the retreating footsteps. He felt another crack in his heart. He knew the green eyes reflected all that he felt. So he couldn't look at them._

_"I'm sorry Odd."_

_He wanted, should've, needed, to say something else, something more but he didn't, couldn't. There was nothing more he could say, do. He grabbed his suitcase and left the room, his friend, lover, behind.

* * *

_

"Daddy! Ayden won't give me back my doll!"

He ran a hand through his brown hair, smiling gently, tiredly, why was he always tired these days?, at his daughter. He walked over to her, swinging her small five-year-old body into his arms, relaxing when he felt her thin arms wrap around his neck, watching her chocolate eyes rage.

"I'm sure he'll give it back Carmen," he told her.

"No he won't! He _swore_ he would drown her and pop off her head!" Carmen wailed, pale cheeks dampening and turning red.

"He won't," Ulrich promised her. She sniffed loudly, rubbing at her eyes and nose with a small hand. "Come on; let's go see where Ayden is."

"He's outside," she told him. "Piggy back ride?"

He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes, keeping the smile off his face. "Alright," he told her. He set her down on his desk so that she could climb onto his back, hooking her ankles around his waist, laughing. They went out through the living room, through the curtained French doors, out onto the patio he'd redone during the winter, just a few months ago.

"Do you see him?"

"He's back there! By the shed," she exclaimed, gesturing. He followed her directions, stepping around the pool and the hot tub Yumi had insisted on having, through the planters, toward the shed.

"Ayden?" He set Carmen down on the grass, taking her hand as she started forward. Behind the shed was the creek that Yumi wanted fenced off, but the children were older now, they wouldn't go near it he had reasoned. "Ayden!" There was a rustle in the shrubs around the back of the shed and Carmen squealed as their dog, Ayden's last birthday present, launched itself out, licking her face.

"Merlin!" The dog backed down, trotting back to his owner, licking the boy's hand. "What is it Dad?"

"Is that how you say hello?" he asked. The boy rolled his brown eyes, running a hand through his black hair, tousling it even more than it already was.

"Hi Dad. What do you want?"

Ulrich laughed and Carmen stuck her tongue out. "Give me back Maia!" she exclaimed, arms crossed over her chest.

"Who?"

"You know who! Give her back you Meany!" She threw herself at him and Ayden laughed, stepping aside.

"You mean your doll?"

"Give her back!"

"Sorry. She took a little swim." A sneer, a smirk. Ulrich had to stop and wonder if he'd acted like this when he was younger, it would explain why he was sent to boarding school a few years later.

"Ayden." His son sighed and Ulrich narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Ayden, you have five seconds," he warned.

"Aw, Dad."

"_Ayden_."

"Fine." He shot a glare at Carmen when she smirked happily. "But it'll take longer than five seconds to get it."

"That's alright." He watched the boy disappear behind the shed again before turning to the little girl. "Why don't you go see what Mommy's doing sweetheart?"

"But Maia..."

"I'll make sure she's safe." Carmen pondered it, scuffing her barefoot in the grass.

"Alright Daddy." She hugged his legs before running back to the house.

He watched her scurry back to the house, disappearing inside before moving around the side of the shed where Merlin and Ayden had disappeared to. "Nice set-up," he commented, smiling. Ayden shrugged from his position inside his fortress of haphazardly piled crates and broken cardboard boxes as a roof. Merlin was stretched out under the _No Girls Allowed_ sign. "Does your mother know about this?"

"No..." he admitted slowly. He grabbed the doll from one of the crates, easing out, along the edge of the shed, careful not to slip down the slope and fall into the creek.

"You know, if you want to, we can fix it up. Make real walls, a real roof. Maybe build it onto the shed for more support. That's only if you want to though." He smiled when the boy's eyes lit up.

"Yeah! That'd be great. Would we have to tell Mom?"

"Nah, I'll take care of that."

"Why doesn't she like the water?"

"She just worries. Come on. I'm sure dinner's ready by now." He slung an arm around the boy's shoulders, taking the doll in the other hand, the dog trotting along next to Ayden.

"You'd really help?"

"Of course."

They entered the living room and Ulrich locked the door, pulling the curtains closed. "Now, no more stealing your sister's dolls, alright?"

"She's such a baby though!"

"You were her age once."

"But I didn't play with dolls."

"Come on," Ulrich laughed, tousling Ayden's hair again. They walked down the hall, entering the kitchen. It was bright and warm, a sunny yellow that Yumi had painted the walls when they first moved in two years ago.

"Perfect timing. Carmen just finished setting the table."

He smiled faintly as she came over, beautiful - always beautiful because she was foreign, alien, just like - he cut the thought off. That was his life. Half finished thoughts and half grasped realizations. "What can I say, I always have perfect timing," he joked.

"Ayden, why don't you fill Merlin's bowl? He looks a bit hungry."

"Okay Mom." They watched as Ayden went to the laundry room, the black dog trailing after him, tail wagging enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" He had just enough time to hold out his arms to swing her up as Carmen rushed over. "I was a real good helper Daddy! I set the table all by myself!"

"I can see that," he told her.

Yumi laughed, brushing back a stray strand of black hair, taking Carmen - beautiful Carmen, daddy's little girl, father's joy - from him and setting her on the ground. "Of course you do," she told him, dark eyes dancing. "Sweetheart, go wash your hands and sit down, alright?" Carmen nodded and ran over to the sink, perching on her toes to turn on the water. "Hi honey, how was work?" she laughed.

"Tiring." Always tired these past eight years...ever since...ever since... "How was your day?" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that she was nestled securely in his embrace, lips brushing against the midnight strands of her hair.

She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering as her arms wrapped around him in return. "Bearable," she replied. He laughed quietly, brushing his lips against hers. Feather light...

"Ew..." They laughed again, moving away from each other as Carmen made a face, Ayden returning. They could hear Merlin chomping on the kibble Ayden had put in his bowl.

"Sit down, honey, can you get the pot roast from the oven?" Yumi asked.

"Sure." He pulled the roast from the oven as Yumi served the green beans, carried it to the counter and cut it. "How's school going?" Keep up the pretenses, happy family, loving family.

"Dad, it's vacation, there is no school," Ayden replied, brown eyes rolling.

"Ah, that's right. How could I forget?" Ulrich asked. He placed the knife - watch it gleam softly in the light, soft steel, hard steel - into the sink, returning to the roast.

"Beats me," Ayden replied.

"Ayden!" Yumi admonished. He leaned back in his chair, sulking at the reprimand as Carmen giggled quietly to herself while Yumi started serving the mashed potatoes.

"Shut-up dork face!"

"Ayden!"

More giggles followed by a cry of "Mommy he kicked me!" Ulrich sighed, exchanging an exasperated look with Yumi. This was what he'd wanted, always wanted. A family. Beautiful wife, beautiful children, family dog, own house. Just finishing his residency. Can you imagine it, medicine?

"Let's eat."

* * *

"Did you really mean what you said earlier Dad? Will you help me?"

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He was sitting on Ayden's bed, watching as Ayden propped himself up on his elbows, looking uncertain. It was like an under water cavern. Yumi and Ayden had done the walls themselves, decorating them with fish, sharks, whales, sea weed. Jeremie had helped with some of the lighting so that a few of the more realistic fish glowed, they were lights. He and Aelita had made the dresser, desk, toy box, bed frame, bookshelves, and end tables themselves to look like rock formations.

"You're always so busy."

Busy, so busy. He was. Always busy that is. Work, always working. His colleagues worried over him, couldn't understand why he stayed for overtime when he had two children - two beautiful children - and a wife - don't forget the wife, never looked twice at any man but him, been together for ages - to come home to - beautiful home, so much work was put into it.

If he wasn't at work he was out in the shed, fixing, making. Watching Ayden play soccer - he's going to go places Stern! That boy's a natural - watching Carmen in ballet. Always busy, running here, there, always running. Yumi getting worried, not saying anything, it's just a phase, is it or is this? He can't decide.

"Dad?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry Ayden. I know I'm always busy, but it's okay. This will just be another thing to keep me busy."

"You're sure?"

"Positive Ayden." He leaned over, tucking the boy in, running his fingers through his black hair. "Good night Samurai," he told him, smiling.

Ayden smiled back. "Why do you call me that?" Ulrich shrugged and Ayden laughed. "Good night Dad." He stood, walking to the door and flipping the light off.

"Sleep tight," he called over his shoulder as he closed the door part way behind him. "She asleep?" he asked Yumi in a hushed voice when they met in the hallway.

"No." A smile graces her face. She really is beautiful, he doesn't deserve her. "She wants her daddy to say good night."

"Alright."

He squeezed her hand before going into the next bedroom. A faerie princess room. She was in her bed, lying on her side, watching him enter. Purple gauze draped over the canopy, around the posts. A toadstool tea table and chairs positioned by one of the windows, he'd made it last year, a meadow on one wall with a castle in the back ground. Forest on the others with hidden faeries, unicorns, dragons, mermaids in a lagoon, and the moon on the ceiling. His little girl, his princess, his pixie.

"Hello Daddy." A yawn that she tried to stifle, curly brown hair fanned around her head.

"Hello pixie," he replied. He knelt beside her bed and she smiled. "It's time for bed."

"No it isn't." Another yawn and she sighed as he turned her onto her back, tucking the quilt around her shoulders, under her chin.

"Yes it is Carmen," he told her. She shook her head, eyelids drooping and he smiled gently. "Sweet dreams Carmen."

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can you," yawn, "open my music box?"

"Sure Carmen. Good night." He kissed her forehead, opening the music box his mother had gotten her from a small village in Germany. It was hand made, probably worth a fortune. He closes her door half way and walked down the hall to his own room. Yumi's sitting at her vanity brushing her hair slowly.

Her reflection smiles at him as he closes the door behind him with a soft click. "You alright?" she asks, turning on the stool, watching him carefully. He nods and she stands, tying the sash on her robe, the one she got from Japan, walking over to him. "Ulrich?" she asks, placing a cool hand on his cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure? You haven't...you haven't been yourself for awhile now. I'm worried about you," she murmured, eyes searching his face.

"I'm fine Yumi, I promise. Just tired. It was a long day," he tells her. The lies - are they lies? They taste like them but it's true, half-true, all-true, somewhat-true, does it matter? It had been tough, gun shot wounds from a drive by shooting, a little girl still clutching onto a teddy bear soaked in blood, she didn't make it, the bear did.

"Want to tell me about it?"

And he did but how, how can you, how can...? _How can you not bring your work home? How can you go home and see your family and talk and laugh and be happy after what you've seen?_ He'd asked that, been asked that, heard it asked so many times. How could you tell your

wife that you performed surgery on a sixteen year old who tried to kill himself, that a father had physically abused his nine-year-old daughter so much that she'd never be able to walk again, that _you_ had to tell the parents, siblings, children, friends that their loved one would never come home, smile, laugh, talk again?

He had never found, never heard, the answer to that.

_How can you _not_ drink, not do drugs, not let it affect you?_ He didn't let it. Pushed it away, refused to acknowledge it. But it crept in, when he watched his children playing, when he saw their cuts, always a chance of the flesh eating disease in every cut, when he heard their coughs, when he watched Yumi pregnant with them, envisioned everything that could go wrong. Crept in when the lights were dim and his family was asleep and he was in his study with the bottle of cognac open and the photo albums of a younger him, them, were on the desk. And then they hit, then they came swirling like a dark mass around him. Then, and only then, did he feel despair at the world around him.

"Ulrich?"

He came back to himself, to the room with the white and blue walls and the white drapes with the shells and the roses and his wife in his arms staring up at him like she had just seen death over his shoulder, in his eyes, reaching out for them. Perhaps, just maybe, she had. But that wasn't possible because he kept those two worlds, all his worlds, away from her, from them, from coming in through the wrought iron fence covered in ivy and roses, up the cobbled walk, through the front door.

"Nah, I think I just want to get some sleep," he told her. And that was the lie because he couldn't sleep anymore, took the pills but nothing happened, just left him numb. He gave her a smile, his regular one, it didn't even seem forced anymore, was this one real?

"Are you sure? Ulrich?"

Her other hand rested on his other cheek, seeping the warmth from his body, through their link and he sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed. He brought up a hand, catching hers in his, turning his head so that he could brush his lips on her palm.

"I'm sure Yumi," he told her, opening his eyes, watching her watch him. Watching as she nodded and the moment was lost. The moment when he could have told her, should have told her, everything. Everything inside, let it pour out, watched distantly as his words were...

"Good night Ulrich," she told him.

And he watched as she pulled away from him and he let her go, arms falling limply to his sides, hands bumping lightly against his legs, watched as she seeped through his fingers like a fuzzy illusion he had dreamt - dreaming required sleeping, she couldn't be one - up, envisioned and made real by some slight of hand. She walked away from him, slowly as though the air was thick, was that why he wasn't breathing properly?

Watched as she draped the robe on the chair by the bed, pulled back the over stuffed white comforter, then the silk blue sheets, slipped between them, adjusted her pillow. She looked over at him and gave him a smile, patting the spot - his spot, was it still? Really? - next to her. He smiled back, not the one from before, this one was quick because it was forced, obvious, and walked over, sitting next to her, leaning over her, kissing her. Another forced smile when she returned it, reaching over to turn off the light, pulling him closer. And he felt himself detach, watching from above, sipping a glass of cognac, observing clinically like the doctor he was as their bodies became entangled.

* * *

The glass was smooth, unblemished, and cool to the touch. He held it in his hands, lightly swirling the amber colored liquid inside, inhaling the aroma of flowers - jasmine, iris, rose, violet. His head was spinning softly, the room passing by counter clockwise and he groaned softly, closing his eyes and giving the glass a little shake, careful not to let the liquid spill out, before inhaling the aroma again.

He had left Yumi alone, in bed, asleep, six hours and a bottle-and-a-half ago, tucking her in just as he'd done with the children, watching her for a moment, envying her for the peacefulness that was wrapped around her, that let her sleep. And then he had left, gone down stairs and closed the study door. When she woke in the morning, two hours from now, he would be gone, back to work, back to patients. For now he relaxed.

The top drawer of his desk stuck, it was on his to-do list, the one that kept growing and getting misplaced and found and lost. He gave it another tug, listening to its short protest before it came unlodged and lay open before him. He listened as something fell over and rolled to the back, over the face-down picture, the silver letter opener that he'd gotten from Ireland, into the darkness, behind the half folded, half crumpled letter.

He took another sip of the cognac, setting it on the desk top and reached in, fingers trembling as they skimmed over the smooth, slick back of the photograph, the cold of the steel, until they reached the cylindrical object, pulling out the bottle, pills rattling inside, shifting, repositioning. There was a sharp _pop!_ as he opened it, shaking out two of the pills onto the top of the desk.

Long, oval, white.

Not threatening, looked almost like over sized aspirin. Pain killers that numbed people to sleep, or just numbed them. That was how he could cope, how he didn't bring his work home with him. How he was able to look at his wife, his children, his life and not break down screaming. He downed the pills, ignoring the warning of taking them with alcohol, alcohol helped him forget too, taking a long sip from the cognac, feeling it burn his throat, his chest, his stomach.

And then the numbness came and he could sit back in the dim lights and let his eyes close halfway and he could take out the picture of them from a far away, lost, left behind, happier time and he could smile, remember, and be lethargic, not happy, not sad. Just _be_. He could trace the smiles, the faces, remember that summer fondly, the cottage, the lake. Before they had graduated, when they were just them, not important, not...

A soft knock on his door and he sat up, looking at the clock, seeing that it was five in the morning, almost time for him to go. He corked the cognac, putting it back in the liqueur cabinet, locking it and putting the key back in the drawer with the bottle and picture. Another knock and he approached the door, opening it slowly.

"Carmen? What are you doing up?" he asked. He lifted her into his arms, looking at her intently and she squirmed before cuddling into him.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

Such a small voice, such a small person. He was always amazed with them. Ayden who was wise beyond his eight years, who knew that things weren't right between his parents, who knew his father wasn't all there anymore, had he ever been? Ayden who branched off on his own yet was so similar to his father and didn't even realize it. Soccer, yes soccer was a shared love though neither played with the other. One was a star, the other a drop-out who wouldn't play anymore.

And she, Carmen, who was still so young, so trusting, yet knew so much. With her big eyes that saw everything even though she still might not understand, even as she looked over her daddy's shoulder and saw the fine white powder left from the pills, thought it was pixie dust, saw the glass half full with cognac and thought it was apple cider. Daddy could do no wrong in her eyes. Yet somewhere deep inside her she wondered why her parents no longer slept in the same room, why her daddy stayed in the study all night, and why her daddy was hardly home yet all the other daddy's were. But she thought it was just because he had more important things to do though later she'd realize, deep down she knew, that he was trying to forget.

"What about?" he asked, shifting her to enable him to walk. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, biting her bottom lip, Yumi worried it would cause an over bite.

"There were spiders. And you."

"Me?" He set her on top of the desk, picked up the cognac, swirling it around once more.

"Yeah. You." Her eyes followed the swirling liquid and she looked into her father's eyes. "Can I have some?"

"Nah Pixie, this isn't good for you."

"Then how come you have it?" Innocence, sitting on his desk, feet bare, swinging and thumping against the desk, eyes watching him, lower lip caught between her teeth, dressed in a white night gown. He could almost see the wings sprouting from the shoulder bones, the light in the frizz of her hair gave her a fuzzy golden outline.

_How come you have it?_ _How come you don't?_ The constant questions, suggestions after shifts to go out and get drunk, get lost, forget, forgive, remember, lose yourself. We're here to save lives, how can we do it if we don't save ourselves? We do, this saves us. By polluting? By forgetting. A liver is a small thing to lose compared to a mind. He probably lost them both.

"Because I'm not smart."

"Yes you are Daddy!" Astonishment, the first time she's heard that her daddy isn't smart, it's outlandish, a lie. She doesn't believe it. Who else knows about every kind of disease, who knows the stars? Who built her faerie palace? Her daddy is the smartest man she's ever met.

He laughs quietly, ruffling her hair as he finishes the drink, brushes off the powder. "No honey I'm not. But thank you." He lifts her up again and carries her into the kitchen where he sets the glass in the sink while she puzzles over this new twist in her world. "Tell me about your dream."

"It was bad Daddy," she tells him as he pulls out the chocolate chip cookies and fills a glass with milk. She sits on the stool, leaning her elbows on the counter as he sets the glass in front of her. "There were all these ugly spiders crawling around and then you were there."

"And that's bad?" he teased lightly. The cookie crunched as he bit into it and she shook her head, curls flying as she dunked her cookie into the glass.

"_No_," she stressed, trying to make him understand. "You were there, but you weren't there." She made a frustrated sound, biting into the cookie, chocolate lipstick on her mouth. "You were leaving me and Mommy and Ayden. And the spiders were separating us. And we couldn't get to you and..."

"Don't worry Carmen, that isn't going to happen," he told her. She looked up at him, trusting, open, eyes filling with liquid. He cleared his throat, trying again. "It won't happen. I promise."

He watched her relax, feet swinging again as she finished her cookies. Watched her eyes begin to flutter, watched the clock over her head tick closer and closer to six, when he'd need to start getting ready, closer to six-thirty when he'd need to leave. "Come on," he told her, carrying her back to her bed, tucking her back in, playing the music box once more, not noticing the woman watching silently from the shadows, hand held tightly to her chest.

* * *

"Stern!"

Ulrich looked up reflexively, continuing to take the pulse of the woman in the bed. _Late again tonight honey, sorry_... More overtime, was he going for Doctor of the month, year? Tenure? Problems at home? Not with that family, must be something else... He heard the rumors circulating, paid no attention to them. Workday ended three hours ago, new shift in a few; do you really want to stay that long?

"Sir?"

He felt like he was back at school again, parent's warnings instilled into his very being. Fresh, scared, alone...and then...but no, his parent's voices rang above everything else. _Always be polite, address those older than you as "sir" or "ma'am." Are you listening? Always listen! Ulrich!_

"Ulrich!" He was brought back to the present again, back to Doctor Justin Graves, head of the Thoracic department, his boss. Justin gave him a hard look, then softened somewhat. "Listen, Ulrich. Finish up with this patient and then call it quits, alright? You've been here for almost fourteen hours. You need some rest. A few of us are going to the bar after, come with us once?"

"No thanks. I've got some work to do."

"You're done for the night Stern. Don't make me have security physically remove you from the building...again." A small smile touching the older man's features, a laugh, hint of a shared joke falling flat.

"Right." He released the woman's wrist, writing the pulse down on the clipboard, checking on her other vitals, making sure she was recovering well from the bullet he'd removed from her right lung earlier this morning, yesterday morning? What time was it now?

He went back to the office, hung up his lab coat, put away his stethoscope, pulled on the jacket. No need to say goodbye to anyone, they didn't expect it and he didn't care for it. Heard the whispers from them, always behind folders or hands, always discreet, as he took the stairs, elevators were over rated when not filled with a Gurney, left through a side entrance to the doctor's parking lot.

Home.

He was expected. To tuck the kids in for the night though Yumi would've already done it, a cold dinner waiting in the microwave or oven, waiting to be heated. Yumi would put it away in a few hours if he wasn't home. She would be upstairs in the room, reading or writing, maybe on the phone with her parents, away from the pool, from the creek.

He shook his head, getting into the car and starting it up, easing into traffic. What traffic? It was almost midnight. He stopped at a red light, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel, not crying, not shaking, just sitting, waiting. He reached into the console, brought out a bottle, popped the top and took two more pills. Numbness filled him, calmed him, and he relaxed, drifting lazily, watching the red light glisten off the black road, the silver hood, and he smiled.

The light changed, he paused to marvel at the differences in the lighting before hitting the gas, tires squealing on the wet asphalt, before turning and heading deeper into the city. Away from the exit that would take him home, letting the car lead him where it would, watching the buildings change from new to older to old then back to older, the streets change in texture - cobbled, asphalt, cobbled, asphalt - and the moon and stars stay hidden behind the clouds that never changed above him.

He stopped finally at a small bar he used to frequent, pulling into one of the few parking spaces and getting out in the faint drizzle. The outside of the bar was made of brick; inside was paneled in wood with a large fireplace. He welcomed the warmth as he entered, rubbing his hands together. It was full, the tables taken, men shooting pool in a corner, playing cards in another. There was an empty stool at the bar and he made for that.

Sitting on the stool, cool wooden counter under his fingertips. And warmth. From the heaters and the fireplace and the smoke that filled the bar, hung over their heads, promising eternal damnation, a premonition of the things to come. He shrugged off his jacket, laying it across his knees. Would Carmen wonder where he was? Would Ayden, Yumi? He needed to stop by the lumbar yard tomorrow to get the wood for Ayden...

The bartender approaches, cheerful grin on his round face. "What do you want?"

_What do you want?_ Such a simple question, he'd given such a simple answer to. You. I want you. And then he'd left. Left suddenly, given no explanation. No contact for years, eight years with anyone. Not Yumi, not Jeremie, not Aelita. And it was because of him...

"Son?"

He jerked, looking up, a faint, bitter smile on his face. What did he want? The last eight years to be erased? Would that make him happy? No...He didn't think so. He wanted more than that, something different. He couldn't imagine life without Ayden or Carmen, couldn't imagine having to go back and re-do all the crap he'd gone through to get where he was at the hospital. Maybe...maybe...

But the bartender was watching him, eyebrows knit together, worried. He could read it in his eyes, worry about the young, no not quite young anymore, younger, yes we'll go with that, man sitting in front of him, lost in his own world of misery and self-hate.

"Gin."

"What kind?"

"The driest kind you've got."

_Gin_... Gin cards, Gin Lane, Gin and orange juice, the perfect breakfast beverage...He shook his head, looking at the swirls on the mock-wood counter top. Tracing them with his eyes, then the nail on his pointer finger, looking up when the glass was placed in front of him.

He picked it up, watching the straw colored liquid swirl; he was always fascinated with swirls before taking a sip. London Dry. Not unexpected but he'd been hoping for just gin. He set it back down, gazing at his reflection on the counter top again.

"Ulrich?"

He jerked, half-turning, seeing the man sitting next to him. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes. Green eyes. _Such a pretty green..._ Still deep, still feeling, watching him carefully, pain burning deep within. _Green had always been his favorite color..._ It was, still his favorite. Even after all these years.

"Odd?"

Barely a whisper, just a hint of one. Worried, confused, sick to his stomach, heart soaring into his throat. He took another swallow from the glass in front of him, enjoying the burning sensation, feeling his fingers itch for the familiar bottle that was still in his car.

"Hi Ulrich." Soft voice, eyes look down into his own glass, he has to laugh when he realizes they both have London Dry gin. Always had been their favorite - gin was. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, no longer in a spike but still with purple in it.

"Hi Odd." And it was quiet because neither knew where to start, how to begin, how to pick up the pieces that they had let scatter in the wind. He took a deep breath, looked at Odd, then back at his glass, back at Odd. Hadn't he been wishing, been hoping for this? That he would see him again? Hoping and wishing, they weren't supposed to get you anything, anywhere. That's what they said. Who said? _They_... "What brings you to London?" Not what he wanted to ask, yes, it was, but not all. He wanted to know...why? Why now? Did you know? That I'd be here?

"Job."

Job? What job? What did you finally decide to do with your life? He took a deep breath, turning to face the other man, no longer smaller, they were the same height, no, he was taller. Couldn't be, but it was. Odd was taller by a few inches. "What're you doing these days?" No! He wanted to say more, scream, rage, question, apologize. Not here, anywhere but here. Relax...breathe...calm.

"I'm a writer now. Came to learn more for my next book." _Green met brown_ just like before, daring him to laugh or joke. His throat was to dry to do either. He took another gulp, finishing the glass.

"Wow. I didn't realize...You were always creative." _Were_. No, still are. He's still here, just inches from you. Reach out, touch him, he won't fade. But he couldn't because he was too nervous that he _would_ fade from sight, would dissipate. "Sold many?"

"Best seller list three books in a row."

"Use a pen name?"

"No. My own." A challenge, you should've realized, clear in his voice. You should've known, would know if you hadn't left.

"Sorry, haven't read much," besides children's books, "lately." Wanted to mention the children, why shouldn't he? He felt guilty, like he'd betrayed him. He had. He'd loved him, he loved him still, and he'd betrayed him in one of the worst ways possible. He hadn't done that to Yumi. Did he love Yumi? No time to ponder that now. "Seeing anyone?"

A flash of pain and Odd was looking away, at his own feet, toes scuffing the metal rung of the bar stool. "No. No one since..." _You._ Unspoken, un-thought, but still there. Hanging above them both, threatening to push them off the ledge.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, watching the younger man, still younger, no longer shorter. "I'm sorry."

A small smile, relaxed shoulders, hand run through blonde hair. "This isn't really the place to be apologizing..." He turned to face Ulrich, green eyes brightening minutely in the dull light. "I'm renting a flat near here for my stay. Do you want to come over? We can talk…"

Open invitation. Refuse, refuse. Think of the children, the wife, the dog, the house, the life you've worked so hard to build, to perfect. Think of...think of... And he was looking in the green eyes, smiling, agreeing without realizing it, without caring. Because this is what he'd wanted, dreamt of every night when he stared at the picture of the two of them, read the letter that Odd had written him the last day of high school, when...when...a smile for the memory.

"What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing," Ulrich says with another smile. "Here, I'll pay." He pulls out his wallet and leaves the bills, not really counting, caring, knowing that it's too much but it doesn't matter. They stand, pulling on jackets, adjusting scarves, laughing, wondering if they're drunk. "Your car or mine?"

"Took a cab."

And it was settled just like that. They stumbled mutely to the car, getting in, out of the drizzle that was falling, clumsily fastening seatbelts, engine starting, did he turn the key? Rain, always raining -_ why do you want to move to England? Why not stay in France, or come home?_ - here, his father never understood why -_ I like the rain Dad_ - he wanted, needed, to move here.

"Turn here. It's the one at the end."

He jumped, so quiet, he'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone. Shaking his head he turned down the road, driving slowly as the rain intensified. Only one building at the end, he parked and they got out of the car. Slowly, apprehension pulling close. Carmen waiting up for Daddy to tuck her in, Ayden realizing that his father might not come home. What would Yumi be thinking? A secretary, nurse? Accident, homicide?

"I'm on the second floor."

And they were walking up the stairs, out of the rain, in the dry heat of the building, up creaking wood steps. Down a short hall and into a living room. Fully furnished, large windows over looking a courtyard, to dark to see anything, Odd flips on the lights, hanging his jacket, holding a hand out for Ulrich's.

"Coffee?"

"No, I'm fine."

Silence. Then Odd smiles. "Gin?"

"That, I can always take." And they're both grinning, lost in their secret world of darkness and half lights, half truths. Life of lies, life of secrecy. Odd moves into the kitchen, pours two glasses of gin, pure gin, and hands one to Ulrich.

"So, are you visiting or...?"

"No. I live here now. Not in London, just outside of it."

They sat in the living room, chairs across from each other, hands gripping the glasses. He looked around the room, taking in the green drapes, pale walls, and thread bare carpet. A renter's flat. Not much work put in it. Odd didn't intend to stay long. In a corner are a laptop and printer, shelves and desk overflowing with papers. Still messy. Always messy.

"You become a doctor or did you give that up when you..." _left._ Always returning to the night when he left, when he packed up his bags and...left. No explanation given, no letter, no phone call, no forwarding address. Just...nothing.

"Yeah. I'm a thoracic surgeon. I work in a hospital..." Rambling. Why does he always resort to rambling? Quick smile, nervous, tense, staring in the glass in his hand. A squeak and he glances up to see Odd standing, pacing, standing, approaching, returning to a window. "Maybe this was...look. I'll just go."

"Yes Ulrich. Go. You always have left." Cold, bitter, tense. He looks up at Odd's tone, watching the younger man turn away from him, looking out the window at the heavy rainfall.

"Odd..."

"No. I understand. No, that's a lie. I don't. I never understood. I thought we _had_ something Ulrich. We were best friends, lovers. You were...you were the best thing that ever happened to me and you left! Without a word, without notice! I didn't even know something was wrong!"

"I'm sorry Odd."

"You keep saying that Ulrich." A pause as he collects himself, forehead pressed against the cold glass. "Just...tell me. _Why_?"

Pitiful, pity - _"Promise me one thing Ulrich. No matter what never pity me..._ - was never an option when dealing with Odd, but this time...this time it was. It was there, tangible and he sighed, setting the glass on the coffee table, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Loose threads in his fingers, twisting, rolling, playing with them. Loose threads. That's what was happening to his life. The threads coming undone, unraveling. If they unraveled all the way...would he be gone too?

"I couldn't take it anymore Odd. The secrecy. The deceit."

"And whose fault was that?" Green eyes glowering, darkening as he spun to face the older man. Fury rising in tides, engulfing him. He'd waited a long time for this, to get this off his chest.

"Mine. I admit it Odd. It was mine!"

"Then why did you hurt me?"

Why? Why? That was the constant question. A child's first question "why mommy?" Why do apples fall down, why does the body fight itself, why does it eventually deteriorate? Why do people hurt other people selfishly? Because that was it, wasn't it? He was selfish.

"I don't know Odd. I don't know. I was stupid. I was young. I was...I was scared. You know my family. And becoming a surgeon? How was I to know what would happen if I..."

"Excuses. Always excuses. I should've known." He crosses his arms, pain etched into his face. It would never go away. He'd had his heart stomped on.

Ulrich swallowed, walking over to him. He rested a hand lightly on the blonde's shoulder. "I'm sorry Odd. I never should've done that to you. You were my best friend and I never should've treated you like that. You were my lover and I walked out on you when you did nothing wrong."

Odd sighed, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment. The feel of Ulrich close again. Warmth. When was the last time he'd experienced warmth? He could feel himself falling, drifting, and he opened his eyes, looking over Ulrich's shoulder at the laptop, trying to focus on what was real. But this...this was real too.

"Ulrich..."

And he knew, knew deep down, that he was making one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Because he was falling, though he had always been, in love with Ulrich. Again. He swallowed again, glancing into Ulrich's eyes. Brown. Everyone always said it was such an ugly color. All mottled and dark and bland. They obviously hadn't looked into Ulrich's eyes.

"Odd...I'm..."

It was just like before. Eight years ago. When they would fight and neither of them could stay mad at each other very long. Especially after...but that came later. They would finally talk it out...make up. The making up was always the best part to fighting. Sometimes he had started fights just for the making up.

Which was why he was kissing him now. Which is why he could feel his heart mending only to be broken again. Why he pressed against him, surprised to find that he had to tilt his face downward instead of up now. What else had changed in eight years? Tongues dancing, hands trailing, bodies pressing. He had missed it. He knew they both had.

Gasping, who was gasping? Neither could tell as they shuffled, stumbled, toward the couch, fingers tangling in hair, catching on clothes. Pulling back, eyes meeting, silent understanding as they sank onto the couch. And then...and then...

They pulled away as the electronic whine filled the room. Odd looked at him in surprise and Ulrich swallowed, pulling out his cell phone and checking the caller I.D. The glowing numbers and name a harsh reminder of the reality that he'd been skirting around. They'd both been skirting around it.

"Ulrich?"

"It's...it's no one." He turned the phone off, wondering, wondering. Yumi had called him. Was it the children? Was she worried? He pushed the thoughts away because if he lingered to long on them he'd realize that he didn't truly care why she called. Instead he looked up into the green eyes.

Odd licked his lips, slipping off Ulrich's lap so that he was seated next to him on the sofa, facing him. Hands still tangled together, eyes still locked. "Ulrich?"

"Yeah?"

A deep swallow, nervous shudder. "You asked me if I had...if I was seeing anyone." A nod, fear clouding the brown eyes, nervousness shared through the linked hands. Another deep breath. Just ask Odd...just ask. "Are you?"

He shrugged, couldn't answer. Cursed the phone. "Does it matter?"

"I haven't...I mean. I wasn't very good keeping in touch with people after...After you left. I talked to Aelita a few months back. She wouldn't tell me anything about you. Just that you lived in England now. She just told me not to get my hopes up. Why would she say that Ulrich?"

Nervous laughter. Nervous, is it really nervous or bitter? Most likely bitter. Bitter at what? The world. Definitely the world. Why the world? What did it do to you? Fine. Not the world, your right. You're always right. It's me. I'm bitter with myself. Why? Must you always question? Yes. Fine then. Because I ruined something wonderful. I've hurt people including myself, my best friend. I can't tell the truth anymore without cringing. And it's your fault; you didn't have to do that. Why did you? Because...because...

"Ulrich?"

He broke off the thought, looked up into the green eyes, bit his lip. That was where Carmen got it from. "Yeah Odd." Cringing, always cringing when he told the truth. Why not when he lied? Yes...why? Shall we ponder that for a bit? _No. No. __Don't want to think, never want to think, forgetting_. _Forgetting is always good_. _Pills...they're..._In the car. Safe. Hidden. In the console. Out of reach. _I need them._ Do you really? _Yes._

"Are you seeing someone?" And then he looked down and Ulrich could feel the green eyes tracing his arm down to his hand where their fingers were entwined and he could see the dull gold on his finger, sparkling in the dull light, burning into his finger, making him tell the truth, forbidding him from lying.

"Yes." So soft. Don't want to tell the truth...want to forget. But can't. Not anymore. Now it's out, in the open. Waiting, breath held, chest still...After four minutes the body shuts down without oxygen. Good.

"Yumi?" A nod. No breathing, no air, no oxygen. Fading quietly, letting the black blur his vision, welcoming it. "How long?"

"Eight years." Damn...a minute short. He should've postponed but he was breathing again. Quiet but breathing. The reason he'd married her. One night stand turned into pregnancy turned into marriage proposal.

"Children?" Numbness spreads through his body. His heart pounding, tearing. He remembered staying up late at night as Ulrich poured over medical books, remembered listening to him spouting off information he didn't care for. _The heart is one of the most resilient organs in the body._ Really? Take a look at mine. _Chopping will do it but burning? It takes a long time to burn._ Good thing you used a knife to kill mine.

"Two."

"What're their names?" Why ask? Why question. Just ask him to leave. Don't let him torture you anymore. Just have him _leave_!

"Ayden Christoff Asa and," a brief pause, small smile, "Carmen Odette Hotaru Stern."

"You must be proud. I see your combining your heritages. Christoff...that's your middle name, right?" A nod from Ulrich. "How old are they?"

"Eight and Carmen just turned five a few weeks ago." Can you see the correlation? The meaning behind the marriage now? He never should have proposed.

"You're lucky." Bitterness laced his voice and he wanted to retract it but can't. He wished he could've moved on like that. "I see why Aelita told me...You and Yumi must be happy."

"She is."

"And you're not?"

Jeremie and Yumi always kidded that Odd was slow or stupid because he constantly had failing grades in school but they were wrong. No, they were right when they called him "lazy and failing" because he didn't do his work but he was smart. He saw things other's overlooked. Wasn't book-smart but was street-smart instead. That's why he took Aelita under his wing which scared Jeremie half to death when he thought Odd was trying to get together with Aelita. This was one of those times, rare as they were, that he demonstrated his perception skills.

"Guess not."

"Ulrich! This isn't funny. I'm not some stranger you've just met. I'm, was, your best friend. Tell me. Please."

"No. I'm not. I love my children, I really do. Ayden's brilliant, obviously didn't inherit anything from me and Carmen...Carmen's wonderful. I love her to death. But I just...I don't like my life. Happy?"

"No."

"Come back with me. Please? Stay for a few days, meet the kids. Please. For me?"

"What did you ever do for me recently?" He bit his lip and Odd sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Ulrich...I never stopped loving you. I don't know if I can say the same for you. This is wrong. I admit it. I never liked Yumi but...I won't help you cheat on her. Or your children. I won't do that to them."

"Then just come back. I missed you Odd. Please, let's start over. Friends?"

"We can never be just-friends. You know that."

"I don't want to lose you again."

"You shouldn't have left."

And they're silent, looking around the living room, anywhere but at each other. Scuffed sneakers, shoes are so underappreciated. They take the brunt of life for everyone. Day-in and day-out they rove the streets, run errands, accompany us on our trips, save the feet from debris on the ground with no thanks. Odd laughs silently at his musings before realizing that his fingers are still woven with Ulrich's, the metal band around Ulrich's finger burning against his flesh.

"Alright. I'll come back with you." He sighs and rests his head against Ulrich's shoulder, such a common thing to do once-upon-a-time - yes a fairytale! Ha! His life was never a fairytale - and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "But it's a mistake you realize," he whispers against the other man's neck. Indeed, he tells himself, it is a mistake but I've waited so long...

* * *

"Dad didn't come home last night. Did he?"

Yumi glanced up from the painting she'd been working on, smiling faintly. "Of course he did Ayden," she replied. She set the brush down carefully on the paper napkin. "What makes you think he didn't?"

He shuffled a foot and then walked over so that he could see the water color of the garden she was working on. "Because I didn't hear the garage open. And the study was dark last night."

"The study?"

"I know." He looked away, across the garden to the pool where Carmen was splashing around with her dolls and ponies. "I know about the study. How he always goes there late at night when we're all asleep."

She laughed, ruffling his hair. "How would you know that if you were asleep?"

"I pretend." They looked at each other evenly, and she sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Ayden..."

"Is Dad. Is Dad going to leave us?"

"Ayden! No. What would make you even think something like that?" Yumi asked, kneeling down to look her son in the eye. She fought back the nervousness coiling in her stomach, smiling brightly. It was a routine that she was used to. Pretend. Pretend. Dinner parties - how are the children? Fine. Wonderful. And yours? - talking on the phone with her mother - Everyone's fine. Yes, yes. No worries - to her children - don't worry, daddy's fine. Busy. Working. He'll be home soon. But they weren't lies. Because she believed them too.

"Jonah Burrows parents divorced a few months back. He said his dad did the same thing."

"Well. Jonah's father isn't your father. He loves you very much." Pause, watch the little boy's eyes, and don't lie to him. It's not a lie. It's the truth. "He loves both you and your sister very much."

"What about you?"

"Of course I love you Ayden!"

"I meant Dad. Does Dad love you too?"

Brown eyes - so much like his father's - stared at her hard, uncompromising. So serious. So much like his father when he was younger. He definitely took after the Stern side of the family. She rested her hands on his thin shoulders, smiling softly.

"When did you become so wise? So knowledgeable?" she asked softly. Where was the baby she used to carry in her arms, used bring outside and show the world? The toddler who was mystified by a firefly's glow on a summer's eve or thrilled when a fish darted through the creek? She didn't see him anymore.

"I'm serious Mom!"

"I don't know Ayden," she murmured because she couldn't lie to him. To his hard eyes and serious nature. She sighed, brushing back his hair. "I think it's time you got a haircut, don't you?"

"M_om_!"

She smiled at him, putting away her painting supplies. "Carmen! Time to come in darling!"

"Mom?"

"Yes Ayden?"

"Will Dad come home tonight?" And as she looked at him she realized that he was still only eight-years-old. Still a child, who was scared to have his family broken up, scared to lose what was most important to him. A child who didn't understand fully what was going on but was trying so very desperately to.

"Yes. He'll come home tonight," she told him as Carmen ran up to them, wrapped in her towel. "Come on, let's fix some lunch."

* * *

Odd kept his eyes closed. He didn't care what time it was, he didn't want to get up. Didn't want to face the world. No, not true. He didn't mind the world. He didn't want to face Yumi and Ulrich's kids, and Yumi herself. He didn't think he could take that. No, he knew he wouldn't be able to take that. Why had he agreed? Ulrich didn't deserve it. Ulrich hadn't done much for him the past few years...but...

He sighed, shifting, pulling the covers higher up on him. He was cold and warm at the same time. Maybe he was coming down with something. That'd be an excuse not to go. Don't want the kids catching something, now do we?

"Odd?"

He sighed again, burying his face in Ulrich's shoulder. "What?" he asked groggily. He felt the bed shift under him, felt the shoulder and warm body retreating from him and opened his eyes, sitting up. "Ulrich?" Don't tell me…he isn't leaving again, not again. Not like this.

"I'm late," he explained with a faint smile.

"Late? For the house? To go back home? If that's the case then I think you're more than just late."

"No, for work. I'm usually there at seven every morning. It's eight."

He can't help the grin that makes its way across his face. "Ever punctual Ulrich is late? Because of little old _me_?" he teases. His breath catches as Ulrich leans in, lips inches from his own.

"Yes Odd. The first time in the two years I've worked there, I'm late." _First in eight I've slept peacefully, all because of you. How can I leave you again?_

Odd sighed, remembering past times. Mornings when he'd woken in their dorm to early morning light spilling through the windows and had grinned, kissing Ulrich awake so they could engage in a few early morning extra-curricular activities which usually left them late for something. Breakfast, classes, a trip to somewhere. Until Ulrich had started setting an alarm so they wouldn't be late. Until Jer or Aelita would turn up thirty minutes early to give a prompting knock on the closed and locked door. He still wasn't sure why neither of their friends had told Yumi, but he was grateful. Very grateful.

"They won't mind then," Odd whispered, pressing his lips to Ulrich's. How was it so easy to revert back to old habits? How was it this simple to fall back into the old routine, the warm and fuzzy feeling of having Ulrich's arms around him, his lips pressed against him? He wasn't sure, but he liked it.

"Odd…I have to call in…sick…" he groaned, feeling his resolve weaken. His eyes met the blonde's and he sighed, all thoughts of work and phone calls disappearing from his mind when he saw the lust reflected in them. He reached a hand up, pressing the cool fingertips to Odd's cheek. Cool. His fingers have always been cool, except in bed, when having sex, making love. Odd had made him feel alive, warm. "Is this a mistake?" he whispers, voice catching. He doesn't want to hear the answer, but he doesn't want Odd to regret it either.

"Yes," the blonde whispers back. A tight smile pulls at his lips. "But I want it."

His tongue darts out, moistens his lips, and then their bodies are pressed together, moans escaping mouths, hands roaming bodies, feet kicking away covers, clothes. His fingers glide over Ulrich's stomach, feeling the taught muscles bunched there, moving up over his chest to encircle his neck and smooth down his back. Eight years and he still remembers the spots that make the brunette gasp, moan, go crazy, still remembers how to make it slow and torturous, even if he would like it rough and fast. Ulrich deserves to be tortured though.

Ulrich gasps, back arching, skin pressing against skin. He shifts, moving so that Odd is pinned beneath him, letting his mouth move over Odd's jaw, down his neck. He pauses at the juncture of neck and shoulder, biting down on the flesh he finds, sucking and nibbling, knowing Odd hates it when he finds that spot. He grins as Odd moans, digging his nails into Ulrich's back, twisting beneath the older man. He moves on, mouth leaving a trail of fire over the pale chest, feather light kisses over the ribs.

Odd groaned, green eyes darkening, remembering earlier times. A trip to the Riviera to spend a weekend locked away inside a hotel room, making love all day as the waves crashed outside. A vacation in Paris to see the lights of the Eiffel Tower, the majesty of the Champs Elysées, the beauty of Montmartre and the artists that resided there. The brief stay in Germany, with his parents, acting like they hadn't wanted to fuck each other against the wall at the next opportunity. He gasped, memories interrupted, as Ulrich's teeth sank lightly into his skin, nibbling around a rib.

He used the brunette's distraction to flip them, pinning Ulrich's body beneath his, straddling him and smiling impishly at him. Brown eyes stare up at him, bemused and waiting, fingers ghosting over flushed and heated skin and Odd sighs, bringing his lips to Ulrich's, stretching out on top of the man held prisoner beneath him. Their tongues duel slowly, enjoying the sensation once more, losing themselves in past memories, shying away from future possibilities, future probabilities.

He slides down the slightly darker skinned body, lips trailing over the skin, down the neck, over the collarbone – _clavicle_ his mind whispers, remembering a night of studying with Ulrich, helping him learn the different bones in the body, remembering just how fun it was to help tutor an anatomy student, just how pleasurable it could be – over the chest, down the breastbone – _sternum_ is whispered to his fevered brain – pausing at the ribcage – _costal_. There are twenty four ribs in a body, twelve on each side, each generally ticklish for unknown reasons, perhaps because they are attached to the vertebrae. Ulrich had tested that theory on him during a study session, Odd had retaliated, had painted the markings of all the muscle groups later, in the muscular chapter, on Ulrich's body. – licking and sucking on each of the ribs.

Ulrich moved and withered beneath him, gasping and groaning at the sensations charging through his body with abandon. He can't remember when he last felt so alive during sex, his mind does, bringing the memory of his last night with Odd and he gasps, whether from the memory and the sensation of Odd's tongue in his navel he can't tell. His fingers find the strands of blonde hair, tangling themselves in the strands, nails scraping lightly against the scalp.

His lips found Ulrich's once more as his hand fumbled in the night stand drawer, finally locating and extracting the small tube, sitting up and straddling Ulrich's waist once more. Ulrich raised an eyebrow, propping himself up, breaths coming sporadically.

"You planned this?" he gasped, gesturing to the lube Odd was spreading over his fingers.

"I hoped," he replied, inserting a finger carefully. Eight years. Pretty much doubt Yumi and Ulrich did anything like this. Then again, who knows?

"You knew," Ulrich pointed out, moaning as a second finger was added.

"I spoke to Aelita, remember? She told me you were in London. I asked around, I hoped," Odd replied.

He curled his fingers, rubbing against Ulrich, eyes dark and pupils dilated. Ulrich reached up, letting his fingers trace along Odd's cheek. He needed to thank Aelita. For keeping the relationship a secret, for helping him after it, for still speaking to him, for telling Odd where to go, how to find him, for so much. Would she still speak to him if she knew what he had done to Yumi? To the kids? He didn't care. As long as Odd was with him, he didn't care.

"I'm glad," he whispered, moaning again. He shifted, tugging at Odd. "Hurry up."

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

"I want you in me." Brown eyes met green and for a second, time froze. "Now," he whispered.

It had been too long, far too long, since the last time he had felt the blonde in him, bringing him over the edge and into completion. Strange, one would think he would want to be the one bringing Odd to completion but no, he had enough of that with Yumi, the few times they had slept together…What would she think if she saw them now? If she knew they had a history that went farther than she had believed it too?

Odd sighs, feeling his body relax, despite the nervous trembling, shoving all thoughts aside. He can worry about them later; can focus on what will happen after this later, another time. He didn't want to lose this moment because he didn't know when he would get another one. He rubs lube on himself, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself at Ulrich's entrance, watching him with nervous eyes.

What if they both regretted it later?

Thoughts don't matter though because suddenly he's inside the older man, easing in slowly, feeling the tightness, eight years of tightness, surrounding him and all he can do is moan deep in the back of his throat. Ulrich's moaning too, head thrown back and nails digging into the pale shoulders above him, cutting skin, allowing the blood to flow. Hissing and groaning as they fall into an old rhythm their bodies haven't forgotten, even after all these years, lips pressed together hungrily, thoughts of the life that exists beyond this moment, beyond the four walls that surround them, disappearing, as panted breaths and heavy moans provide the backdrop to the sound of sweat slick skin hitting against sweat slick skin.

Ulrich comes first, moaning Odd's name lowly, for once he doesn't have to bite his tongue, doesn't have to physically think about what name he is supposed to say, back arching off the bed, fingers scraping red welts down the fair skinned back and chest. He lays panting, feeling the euphoria taking hold, so much better than the pills, the drinks, so much healthier, though others might disagree, and smiles as he hears Odd call his name in return, always so much more vocal in bed the blonde was, biting down hard on the brunette's neck to try and muffle the noise though they both know, from past experience, that it won't do any good.

They lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, panting and still denying that an outside world exists because they don't want to return to it. To the patients and the innocent victims, to telling loved ones that their friend, family member, lover, died, was injured, will never walk again. To the hectic schedule of tours and book signings, deadlines and editing, to lonely nights in a lonely bed with no one to cuddle against. They drift on the edge of sleep, fighting the encroaching reality, disappearing to dreams of a happier past, before one of them screwed up both their lives and everyone's life he's touched since.

* * *

Sheanswered the phone calmly, expecting, hoping it was him calling, to tell her he had gotten held over at the hospital. A shooting, a car crash, anything. It wasn't him; she hadn't really expected it to be him, deep down where the truth hid in the shadows, away from the cruel light of day.

Carmen and Ayden are outside, playing in the backyard with Merlin and she stands at the French doors, watching them run around, holding the grey, plastic receiver tightly in her hand. Listening as Doctor Graves, his supervisor, asks if he's home, saying its unusual for him to miss work, can't remember a day when he did actually, not even for vacation, such a dedicated man to not call in sick, and all she can do is nod and brush a hand through her hair, hoping her voice isn't cracking as she tells him he's in bed with the flu or pneumonia or something just as deadly because she can't tell him the truth. She can't tell him he never came home, didn't spend the night in his study, away from her, distant from the very people who loved him so much. So she accepted his hopes that he got better and hung up, keeping her eyes from tearing.

She doesn't know when it went bad, when he stopped caring completely for her. She can remember earlier times, when they were still at school together and she was still dancing around her feelings for him, getting jealous when he hung out with first Emily, then Sissi, not understanding the last one at all. He had told her Sissi wasn't that bad, maybe she wasn't; she had never given her the chance to find out because she knew Sissi was rotten to the core.

High school, she decides, is when things started to change. They hung out still and he still protected her, had taken her to the dances a couple of times, though they were never officially anything more-than-friends. He started hanging out with Odd more, during that time, and she started hanging more with Aelita and some other kids in her own grade. They didn't hang out much anymore, there was no need, XANA had been destroyed, they no longer needed to save the world, the factory had been destroyed, and Aelita had been permanently materialized.

And then, just like that, everything changed one night, at a party that Odd hadn't attended, years after graduation when he was studying to become a doctor. Too many drinks, not enough common sense, and a hotel room that was too conveniently located to be passed up and she had ended up pregnant. She had told him, a month or so later, when she had asked him to meet with her at a café in downtown Paris, after they had avoided each other completely, and he had proposed, whether willingly or out of a sense of duty she never really knew. She had been happy to accept though. Maybe that had been a mistake.

She sits here now, staring at the phone and willing herself to keep a brave face, not to let on to the children what is really going on. She knows there's something wrong, even if he had always been secretive, so secretive - he never told her his birthday, she hadn't known until Odd had surprised him with a cake one year and then she'd felt bad; hadn't known he had a twin sister until she had arrived suddenly one summer, turning their lives upside down and infuriating him by dating both William and Emory, the two guys he hated most; never knew he had raised a wolf pup until Odd had called him out on being a dog lover after he had threatened to kick Kiwi out because of his chewed up homework – not telling her anything, not opening up to her.

He didn't discuss his work, that had been established a long time ago, when he was an Intern, with only one brief lapse when he had told her of a girl who's father had abused her, who had tried to escape her life by slitting not only her wrists but her whole arm, her whole body, scarred her flesh badly because she didn't want to be beautiful or attractive to him. And she had appreciated it, until now. Maybe she should have pushed harder, maybe she should have tried more, to get him to face his demons, instead of waiting up night after night as he went to bars and came home drunk and tired, quiet and unapproachable.

Maybe she should never have accepted the proposal.

* * *

When he awoke the bed was empty and he had a momentary sense of panic, wondering if it was all a dream, it would seem plausible, probable, with his recent consumption of pills and alcohol, but he realized after a moment that he wasn't in his own bed, his own house. He slipped from between the covers, pulling on his pants, and made his way into the rest of the flat.

Odd was sitting on the sofa, staring out at the drizzle falling over the courtyard, typical London weather. His knees were drawn up under his chin, arms wrapped around them tightly. He looked lost, alone, like the younger version of him Ulrich had known so long ago. He hesitated, wondering if he was regretting what had happened earlier, wondering if he should just get his clothes and leave, but he couldn't, not again.

Instead he sat down next to the blonde, not saying anything, just staring out the window at the rain. It had rained just like this fifteen years ago, was it really fifteen years? They had still been in France then, the upper school of Kadic, the high school, still dorming together. They had been caught outside, in a scrimmage match, one-on-one soccer, when the storm had broken finally, after hours of threats. Laughing, they had run to the shelter of the forest, hiding under the thick canopy of leaves, slipping on the muddy trails. The last slip had done them in, causing Odd to knock Ulrich over on his way down, pinning him to the muddy ground beneath them. And in that instant, their lives had changed, when they had struggled to stand, had gotten more entangled, had ended up brushing their lips together. He always liked the rain.

"You cheated on me, didn't you?" he asked softly.

"Odd?"

"With Yumi, eight years ago. That's why you left me so quickly."

"I had to Odd," he whispered.

"To what? Leave or cheat, because I'm sorry if I wasn't bloody fucking good enough in bed to satisfy you Ulrich!" Odd yelled, turning to face him. The green eyes were dark, glittering, and Ulrich looked away, out the large window at the raindrops and courtyard. Always looking away, cringing from the truth, hiding in the shadows.

"It was at that stupid party, the one Aelita talked us into going to, the one you couldn't go to because you were sick. God, I'm sorry Odd. I had one drink, probably more than one drink, too many and ended up in bed with her. I had to take responsibility; I had to at least propose to her after she told me."

"You could have told me Ulrich, you could have told me before you left."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough. This was a mistake, another damn mistake in a lifetime of mistakes. I can't do it Ulrich. I can't." He took a deep breath, eyes closing. "I can't let you ruin your kids' lives. I can't. Not because of me."

"I'm leaving Yumi."

Odd jerked, eyes opening quickly as he stared into the brown eyes. They were sincere, nervous, and unsure of the response he'd get to his brief statement. It was true though, he had already planned it, already looked into divorce attorneys. It wasn't fair, what he was doing to her life, she deserved to be with someone who made her happy, who spent more time with the kids. He couldn't do that, even when intoxicated.

"Because of me?"

"Because of me. I'm useless Odd, I make her life miserable, the whole thing was one big mistake that I regretted from pretty much 'I do' and it's time to put an end to it."

"Then why did you do it?" Odd demanded, turning to him. His eyes were wide, pain showing through easily, hurt and confused at the messed up life they both found themselves in.

"I thought it was the right thing to do." He took a deep breath, stretching out. "I thought it was the honorable, responsible thing to do. I should have just paid child support and gotten it over with."

"You always liked kids."

"I always loved you." The first time he hadn't cringed when telling the truth, the first time he had looked someone in the eye, when was the last time he did that? Years ago, seven, eight years? He couldn't be sure. "Charlie always told me I was an idiot for letting you go."

His head jerks again, staring at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. "Charlie knew? I never knew that."

He nods slowly. "The only one beside Jer and Aelita. I think she disinherited me as a brother because of it. Me leaving you, not me being with you. She always liked you," he adds. His head is pounding and he doesn't want to think about his life.

"I knew Char was smart," he joked, sighing. "You can't leave her Ulrich; it isn't fair to those kids."

"I was going to leave anyway." He hesitates and then slides closer, letting his hands rest on Odd's shoulders, eyes level with his. "I love you Odd. For some unknown reason you're all I've thought about for the past eight years, longer, the past fifteen or more. Every night, I reread that letter, the one after high school," Odd's cheeks flush, "stare at the picture of us, smiling and laughing as Aelita tried out her new camera."

"I never stopped thinking about you either." He took a deep breath, resting his head on Ulrich's shoulder. "Eight years of celibacy, that should be a bloody fucking record, especially for me." He felt the laugh before it escaped Ulrich's lips and smiled. "I love you too Ulrich, I just think that maybe, we just aren't meant to be."

"Don't say that. I would do anything for you."

"Would you give up being a doctor, here in London?"

He felt the brunette shift and lifted his head, looking at him, feeling the nervousness exude from him. When was the last time he had been this nervous? After their first kiss, when they were still drenched in mud, raindrops falling around them? No, he had been nervous, but happy that Ulrich hadn't punched him in the stomach. The first time they had sex, when they were at his house in Norway, his parents at a dinner party? No, he had been excited, thrilled, enthralled. The first time they had gone away together, completely alone? Maybe, that had been a big step in their relationship.

"Odd?"

"I live in New Zealand now; you know how I liked the ocean, the surfing." He hesitated, eyes dropping to the couch, then back to him. "If you're really going to leave her then…come back with me."

"Odd…"

Was it really that simple? Could he really just hire the attorney, leave her, and move in with Odd before the papers were even sighed? He hadn't been with her though; he'd already left her, for more than half their marriage, had it all been a mirage? He wouldn't mind, New Zealand, away from the rain, though he would miss it, the other side of the world, he was sure they would need a doctor there eventually, if he stayed with it.

"Are you sure?" he asked finally. He couldn't meet the eyes, the light, probing eyes that always saw whatever it was he was trying to hide. Hopes and wishes don't come true, they never come true, and yet here it was, the opportunity to make them come true and he was shying away from it, from them. Again.

"Are you going to run?"

He let out a long, soft sigh and rested his forehead against Odd's shoulder, keeping his eyes closed. "Not this time."

"Are you going to tell Yumi?"

Tell Yumi? Tell her what? The secret that he had kept for years, the one he had lost sleep over, the one he had drunk himself to numbness over? No. He couldn't tell her because he couldn't… Couldn't what? Couldn't let her think that he had chosen a guy over her and their children, his best friend over the eight years of marriage they had suffered through? _Hi honey, I'm leaving you for Odd. _Eight years wasted, he was never there anyway, doesn't matter anyway.

"Eventually, yes," he says instead, eyes meeting Odd's.

"Are you lying?"

"I don't know." He took a deep breath. "My parents won't understand. She won't understand."

Odd hesitates, fingertips brushing the brunette's temple. "She already does." Brown eyes meet green, puzzled and confused. A sigh, uncertain, nervous smile. "Aelita gave me the address," he whispers. "I saw her, I saw the way she acted, the way she looked, and I asked her where you were, that's when she told me about the hospital." He hesitated a moment. "The staff said you'd left, that's when I remembered what Aelita had said about the bar." Another pause as his eyes meet Ulrich's. "Are you upset?"

"That you tried to find me?"

"That I didn't tell you earlier."

"No. Our lives are screwed up enough as it is."

And suddenly, as he envisions the court case, the lawyers and the dividing of funds, imagines the look of contempt on Ayden's face, the look of confusion on Carmen's, he can't help but feel overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by life, the life he had worked so hard to perfect, worked so hard to achieve, and he buries his face in Odd's shoulder and tries to envision better times, when life was easy, nothing much to worry about beside Sissi's advances and the looming Physics test, maybe a XANA attack or two when he was still around.

He's done it to himself though, done it to them both, them all. And he can't remember the good times, can only remember the bad, the fights, the arguing, spending the night wrapped in a blanket on the floor of Jeremie's room, remembers the time he'd almost lost Odd to the digital void, the time he was almost forced off the soccer team because of a barely passing grade in Physics. It had worked out in the end though, the fights and arguments had been soothed, their differences reconciled, Jeremie's floor abandoned for the comfort of a bed and a breathing body next to his or just across the room, Odd was saved at the last minute, his grade was rescued by late night study sessions with both Odd and Aelita.

He sighs, sitting up and looking at Odd. He feels like he's seventeen again, stumbling through his first relationship, unsure of how to act, until he finally manages a smile, remembering some of the later study sessions, after Physics, when he was studying anatomy, physiology, human structures. Odd raises an eyebrow, unsure of where the train of thought is taking him and he laughs quietly, slipping an arm around his shoulders and the younger man sighs happily, leaning into the warmth of Ulrich's body.

"So, are you really going to do this?"

"Yeah. I'm not letting you slip away. Not again, not ever."

"Good."

* * *

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

The voice was soft, quiet, and unassuming. He sighed, turning to face her slowly, feeling sluggish and tired. She was leaning against the wall, just inside the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and face guarded slightly. She looked as tired as he felt, comprehension masking her face. He hasn't seen her since dinner, since two days ago before that. He had expected her to come in after saying goodnight to the children, just as he had. He wondered if they knew he had been telling them goodbye.

"If I say I am?"

"There's nothing I can do to stop you? Nothing I can say will make you change your mind?"

"Yumi…I'm sorry. I'm…" He looked away; down at the suitcase already packed on the bedspread, zipping it closed and turning back to her. "I never meant to hurt you Yumi; I want you to know that. I just can't do it anymore."

She sighs, pushing away from the wall and approaches, slowly, head bowed slightly so he can't see her eyes, can't tell what she's thinking, doesn't know if he wants to know. "It was a mistake, wasn't it? The whole thing. From the moment we stepped foot in the party, we never should have had those drinks, you never should have proposed and I never should have accepted."

"Probably," he agrees softly, sitting down slowly. She follows suit, reaching over after a moment to take his hand, noticing the absence of the wedding band but not really caring at this point.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner Ulrich? Why didn't you tell me what's wrong? Is it your job? Is it me, the kids? All I wanted was for you to open up to me."

"I know Yumi, I know. It's…everything. You and the kids are great, wonderful, I don't deserve you."

"Of course you do Ulrich!"

He shook his head, laughing quietly. "No, I really don't."

"There is someone else, isn't there?" He didn't say anything and she sighed, letting her head fall forward, dark hair hiding her face from sight. "I suppose I should have known, all the time you spent at the hospital, the nights you stayed in your study…even Ayden was picking up on it."

"Yumi…"

"Who is she? A nurse? Another doctor?"

"Yumi, I wasn't seeing anyone." She looked at him and he sighed. "I hurt someone when I married you," he murmured. "I guess I never got them out of my mind." Never got over it, still not sure how you'll move past it, how you'll regain his trust, but it's a start. Hurry, hurry, the plane leaves in three hours, don't want to be late, don't want to make him wait again, another eight years and you won't last. Pills or alcohol, which will kill you faster? Maybe you'll just end it all on your own. Maybe.

"Who?" she asks, eyes puzzled, eyebrows drawn together. "I didn't realize you were dating anyone. Was it Emily?"

"No Yumi." He looks at the clock and stands slowly, looking at her. "I never meant to hurt you or the kids, you know that right?"

"I know Ulrich, I know." She stands as well, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Just, please, who was it? Or is it? I assume this is the person you're leaving me for."

He gives a kind of twisted smile and shakes his head. "I doubt you want to know."

"As long as it isn't Sissi."

"It isn't."

"Then, please, just do this one thing for me. Tell me who it is."

He looks at her, sees the concern, the earnestness in her eyes and offers her a wane smile. "Odd," he murmurs, watching the comprehension dawn on her face, giving her a final nod before grabbing the suitcase, turning to leave.

He's left a note on the study desk, the number to reach him at in case she needs him though he doubts she'll call at the moment, and he pauses on the front porch when he hears her open the door behind him, calling for him to stop. He expects the punch when she walks up to him, the yelling or the crying. He doesn't expect the hug or the whispered "I wish you two the best, what we never had" in his ear before she pulls away and enters the house, shutting the door on him and their life together, allowing him to do what he's wanted to do for eight years.

He turns, reaching the street and puts the suitcase in the trunk of his car, noticing Odd dozing in the passenger's seat. He smiles as he slips into the driver's seat, watching as he wakes to the engine starting, green eyes wide and questioning, fighting off the remnants of sleep. He only gives a slight nod and Odd smiles back at him, leaning in to kiss him quickly, regardless of who might see them, who might care, just like they used to in the halls at Kadic when no one was paying attention, in the stairwells between classes.

"You won't regret this?"

"No more than the past eight years."


End file.
